


the art of becoming (too) adaptable

by moniker



Series: the art of [1]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Polyamory, although final ship is solidly ian/anthony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moniker/pseuds/moniker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he wakes up at four in the afternoon, there’s a text from Anthony waiting for him.</p><p>'I’m sorry,' it says.</p><p>'we’re not talking about this,' he replies, and goes back to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the art of becoming (too) adaptable

**Author's Note:**

> Matt and other OCs are not real people or based off of real people. Any similarities to people—especially ones close to any people I wrote about in this fic—are pure coincidence.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in love with Anthony, but it feels like it’s been his entire life. He doesn’t know when he began, how he started. He fell in love without meaning to, without realizing it. By the time he notices, he’s in too deep to stop.

—

They meet in 6th grade. He’s twelve and he’s never had a best friend and he’s ecstatic to meet Anthony, who understands him like no one else ever has. They’re comrades, brothers-in-arms, and middle school breezes past, some of his favorite memories because everything was simple then.

He hits puberty in high school and his teenage years are full of angst and embarrassment because he’s inexplicably attracted to his best friend. He doesn’t want to be gay, has an unhealthy dose of internalized homophobia. He doesn’t want to be bullied, and he never tells anyone, keeps it a secret that he jerks off to thoughts of his best friend. He thinks it’s a physical reaction back then, because Anthony isn’t the only guy he finds attractive, but in retrospect, he was probably already in love.

He hides it well, has a few girlfriends to cover up, and no one ever suspects a thing. He accepts that he’s at least mostly gay, because even when he likes girls, it’s never anything close to how boys (Anthony) make him feel.

High school passes and Smosh becomes their full time thing.

He realizes he’s in love with Anthony when he’s 18. It’s a week after his birthday, and they’re scripting a video. The sunlight filters in and hits Anthony _just so_ (what a fucking cliche, he knows), and it’s like getting hit by a truck. He feigns sick and burrows himself under the covers for two days straight. He comes out determined that he won’t say a thing, won’t ruin what is literally the best relationship he’s ever had, because before anything else (crush, lover, whatever) Anthony is his best friend, his life partner, and his brother in every sense of the word but literal.

So he lives with the scary knowledge that he’s in love with his best friend in his chest, keeps it locked away so he can keep being with Anthony like this, filming videos, goofing off, having fun. He gets used to it, a faint thrum of attraction that’s always there. It’s never quite easy, but it’s not hard either. He reaches a comfortable equilibrium.

—

Melanie is the first girl he meets that he truly likes (the first person other than Anthony that he connects to in _that_ way). He grasps at the relationship with desperate hands, because being straight is so much easier than otherwise. Still, it’s easy with Mel in a way that it never was with Anthony (romantically, at least) and he really does love her. He doesn’t stop loving Anthony though. It’s so ingrained in him, such a vital part of him that he doesn’t think he knows how to stop, doesn’t think that he’ll still be Ian Hecox if he stops.

There’s a vague hope in the back of his mind that Anthony will get jealous, that maybe he’s been in love with Ian too. That maybe he’ll get his happily ever after. Then he immediately feels guilty towards Mel, because he does love her, he does. But it doesn’t compare to how he feels for Anthony (in the very least, not yet). She deserves better than being second best, but he’s too selfish to give up the easiest relationship he’s ever had. 

He also feels stupid, because even though he knows logically that it won’t happen, won’t ever happen, that Anthony is straight, straight, _straight_ , it’s hard to squash the hope, and he ends up disappointed anyways when what he gets is a smile and an “Awesome, buddy!”

It’s okay though, because he’s used to the disappointment. It’s a constant in his life, and he thinks he’s improving. It’s getting easier and easier to not hope, even if he still slips up now and then. With Mel there, things are better. Now and then, he even manages to forget about Anthony (though never for long).

Mel’s perceptive though, and she notices. With the long distance relationship they have going on, it takes awhile, but she notices. She confronts him about it during a visit from college, brings it up gently but firmly.

He doesn’t know how to respond, because he’s literally never spoken about it out loud, about liking guys, about loving Anthony. He’s silent for long enough that she sighs, brings her feet up onto the bed and leans back against the wall. “How long?” she asks, resigned.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly after a beat. “Since high school. Maybe middle school.” He pauses, because it feels weird—so weird—to talk about it. He thinks that it’s maybe time to let it out though. Probably it’s not good for his health to keep it bottled up, he reasons, so when Melanie prompts him for more, it all comes tumbling out. It feels nice, he thinks, to talk about it. New and unusual, but not unpleasant.

She’s silent for a long time after he finishes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he is. Anthony may be the best relationship he’s ever had, but Mel tops him in being the easiest, and rivals him in being the nicest. “If it’s any consolation, I really do love you.”

“Just not as much as Anthony,” she finishes. They sit in silence again, him trying to savor the last moments of their relationship, her with a pensive look on her face. He starts when she begins talking. “I fell in love with my best friend during middle school,” she tells him. 

“We’d been friends since we were 6. I confessed to him when I was 15,” she says, smiling wistfully, ruefully. “It was terrible timing, because he was just about to tell me that he was serious about his new girlfriend.” She laughs, bitter-sweet. “Figures he chooses _then_ to get serious about a girl, the playboy. Fucking impeccable timing.” 

The look in her eyes is far off. “To be honest,” she says softly, “I’m still a bit in love with him. I think you leave a bit of yourself with everyone you fall in love with.” She sighs, looks down, says, “It fucking sucks to fall in love with your best friend.”

“NOT,” she adds quickly, “that I’m trying to say that it’ll end badly if you try with Anthony.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he reassures her. “I know exactly what you mean.” Silently, he adds, _And I know it would end badly if I tried with Anthony._

“Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I told you this. I guess I just wanted to relate. Let you know that we’re in the same boat.” She gives a shrug and falls silent. Plays with her hair, tugs at the blankets. “If you still want to be together,” she says suddenly, “I’m fine being second to Anthony. There’s always a chance that I’ll pass him someday, right?” she says, half jokingly. “And if not, I’m okay being his replacement until you find the right person.”

“You deserve better,” says Ian, even though he wants desperately to accept the offer. It’s easy with Mel, it’s great with Mel. It’s just not fair for Mel.

“I might ‘deserve better,’ ” she says, miming air quotes, “but that’s not what I want. I like being with you, Ian. It’s easy (he snorts, because yeah, it really is) and I think we’re good for each other. I mean, what other couple talks openly about exes and other loves? It’s a healthy relationship, right? Being open and honest about things.”

“I don’t know if it’s really healthy or really unhealthy,” he replies, because at any rate, it’s terribly unconventional, and that makes him uncomfortable.

“Come on, Ian,” she wheedles, almost playful. When he doesn’t react but to give her a doubtful look, she sobers up. “Do you really want to break up? I’m fine if you do, but I honestly do think it could be good for us, staying together. I’m not quite ready to move on,” she admits, “and I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

He gives her a long look. 

When he smiles tentatively and holds out a hand, her smile is blinding.

—

The incident really does strengthen their relationship (“Ha!” says Mel later, gloating. He shuts her up with a kiss). They grow a lot closer as more than just lovers. Other than Anthony, Mel is his closest friend. In some aspects, Mel is even closer, because he talks to her about things he doesn’t talk about to anyone else (liking guys, loving Anthony). In return, she tells him about all the crushes she develops, all the attractive people she meets daily. It’s almost like an open relationship, but for the fact that Mel only looks, never touches, while Ian lacks interest in anyone other than his girlfriend and his best friend. (It’s a pretty weird relationship, he concedes. Completely unconventional, to be discussing things like that with a significant other, but he loves it, wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.)

This is what it feels like to be dating a best friend (Anthony), he thinks in the back of his mind, before scolding the back of his mind.

—

Anthony meets Kalel in 2010.

He’s dealt with Anthony having girlfriends before, and it’s not exactly easy, but it’s doable. Kalel is different because he can tell immediately that Anthony’s serious about her. It’s horrible, and it hurts like a punch to the gut. (And to think that he thought he was getting better.)

He puts on a great performance as a supportive best friend before he goes home. He calls Mel and they talk until 3 am even though she has an exam tomorrow (he apologizes profusely later, but she just waves it off, because she awesome like that). 

He copes, like he always does. And he genuinely likes Kalel. She’s hilarious, adorable, great. Perfect for Anthony, he thinks. Unlike him. (It hurts.)

It’s a hurdle he gets over. He’s adaptable, after all, has been dealing with these things since the moment he realized he was in love with his fucking best friend.

Kalel and Mel hit it off too, which makes it even harder to bear a grudge, because how is he meant to dislike someone that his two favorite people adore?

He’s at a relatively happy equilibrium for two years. He’s happy with Mel (and he optimistically thinks that she’s starting to catch up to Anthony), and Anthony’s happy with Kalel (he can deal), and he’s happy with Anthony (they live together, and it’s awesome) and the four of them are overall pretty happy with each other. Plus, Smosh is still going strong.

Things change in 2012.

The fact that they’re moving out separately becomes a reality. It’s been in plans since the year before, but he’s been doing his best to ignore it because he doesn’t know how he’s meant to deal. 

May comes in a flash, and Anthony moves out to live with Kalel (all the way in fucking LA), and he moves out into his own new house, to be shared with Mel.

He panics, during those first few days without Anthony. In his mind, he knows that Mel is arriving to live with him shortly, but it does nothing to calm him. He’s lonely and he hates it. 

It’s not too bad after a week or so though. He’s adaptable (so fucking adaptable). It’s still a while before Mel arrives, and he thinks a lot during the interlude. He’d gotten so used to living with Anthony, to dealing with and hiding the constant attraction, that with him gone suddenly, there are a lot of revelations. He wonders if the reason that he’s loved Anthony so consistently is because Anthony’s always been there so consistently. (It’s not that he loves Anthony any less with the one week they’ve spent apart, but Anthony has always been there. He’s never even considered being apart from him.)

He wonders if he could forget about Anthony if they spend longer apart, put more distance between them. It’s hard to fall out of love with someone you live with.

He wants it to work with Melanie, he really does, so he doesn’t know why he’s been stupidly holding onto Anthony for so long. 

He feels like it’s time to let go. Moving out is the perfect chance. He can’t screw this up.

—

They become distant.

Distant for them, at least. They’re still best friends, they still love each other (platonically, he thinks, not unbitter), but they are distant compared to before.

It’s natural though, because Ian and Mel live up in Sacramento while Anthony and Kalel live down in LA. Except they really could meet up more often, talk more often if he put in more effort (the same amount he did before). He feels kind of guilty to be skimping on the effort he puts into his relationship with his _best_ friend, but then he remembers that its for both their benefits, and he tamps down on the guilt.

Mel worries about him at first, mother-hen’s a bit because she’s concerned about his fake excuses when Anthony wants to meet or asks about his “missed” texts. Ian tells her seriously that he’s ready to let go of Anthony, and that he’s trying his best. She gives him a long, inscrutable look before pulling him into a hug and a kiss. Ian thinks that she should have more faith in him (because where else is he going to get it?).

They run in different circles now. Anthony and Kalel have a horde of new friends down in LA, while Ian and Mel still chill with their old friends up in Sacramento. They don’t meet up much other than to do videos. They still call each other best friends, but Ian can’t help but think that he’s really, _really_ sucking at being a good friend. That they’re still best friends is a decade of actually being best friends, not this watered down version that Ian’s been responsible for creating. He feels guilty, but not quite enough to stop. His feelings for Anthony have dimmed a bit, a small victory, but they’re still there. He can’t risk losing all progress in a moment of weakness where he accepts Anthony’s meet-up suggestion.

—

It goes to show how far they’ve drifted when he finds out about the proposal from Twitter. 

Well, he knew it was coming, because Anthony had mentioned it in passing (and he’d done his best to box that shit up, because _fuck_ ), but it still hits him like a ton of bricks that his best friend (love of his life) is getting fucking married, and he wasn’t properly informed.

“Oh, Ian,” says Mel when she finds out. They spend the night curled together watching a flurry of movies he can’t remember because he was too busy trying to not feel dead. He wakes up feeling like he didn’t sleep a wink, and forces himself to text Anthony.

He considers sending _congrats! when were you going to tell me tho,_ before simply changing it to _congrats buddy for lockin that down before she leaves you :P_

(They both hurt like fuck to send, but at least the second one doesn’t hit home painfully close.)

—

He shuts down even more after the proposal, and he thanks the heavens that he started this earlier on. He couldn’t possibly have ever acted normally through the proposal, and Anthony would have been on him in a second if this had happened a year ago—but it didn’t, so it’s fine. So he’s acting colder than before—at least it’s a 75 to 70 degree change, not fucking 100 to 70. They’re no longer best friends, not really, but at least his secret’s safe, so their friendship’s not completely ruined.

—

Towards the end of the year, Mel and Kalel have a fight. Mel comes home angry, and refuses to talk about it. It worries him, because since the incident, they have literally had no secrets. It dawns on him that it’s probably related to his feelings for Anthony, and he frets when she’s out of sight. (He doesn’t want her to see and worry, knows that she’ll feel obligated to spill if she sees him like this.)

Two days pass, and he spends most of those 48 hours worrying. 

Kalel calls.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing she says.

“It’s Ian,” he replies, surprised. He wonders why she called the landline. “Do you want to talk to Mel?” He’s surprised when she says no. 

“I want to talk to you,” she says. “I know what I said the other day was overkill, and I’m sorry about that. But I’m serious about you being a dick recently. Anthony’s been mopey for months because you keep avoiding him. I think he might actually think that you hate him, Ian, and that is coming from your _best friend._ I don’t know what’s been up with you, but please stop. Either tell him what he did wrong, if he did anything wrong, explain whatever’s been up with you, or straight up tell him if you suddenly hate him, which you better not.”

“O-okay,” says Ian, at a loss for words. “Uh, do you want to talk to Mel?”

Kalel sighs, says, “I’ll call her cell,” and hangs up.

He goes to bed early that night, and almost doesn’t sleep a wink. He spends the entire night feeling like shit because he didn’t realize what he was doing. He’s been so used to being the one with a one-sided love that he’s somehow managed to forget that while that might be one-sided, their friendship is mutual. Abstractly, he understands that he’s being a dick, and it probably hurts Anthony, but it’s hard for him to imagine that his actions have any effect on Anthony (he consciously tries to avoid it, because it gives him a false sense of hope). He might be cutting off contact to preserve his heart, but for Anthony, his best friend has randomly abandoned him.

He calls Anthony the next morning, tells him that he’s just been really busy and tired recently (it’s a blatant lie, and Anthony probably doesn’t believe it even if he claims otherwise, but he can’t think of anything better to say). They make plans to go watch a movie after filming that afternoon.

Filming ends late and he slept less than an hour last night, so he ends up falling asleep on Anthony’s shoulder halfway through the film. Anthony just lets him sleep, goddammit, which does nothing to help his heart (at least he’s selling the whole tired and busy thing). He wakes up bleary-eyed at the end of the movie when Anthony gently shakes him awake, voice soft and fond and god fucking damn, he’s fucking falling back in love again, destroying all the progress he made, and there’s nothing he can do about it, because he refuses to be shitty to his best friend again.

(He goes home and vents to Mel, and she coddles him and soothes him, and he falls asleep thinking that he’s the luckiest person in the world to have a girlfriend like her and the unluckiest in the world to fall in love with his fucking straight best friend.)

—

He can’t help it. He’s spent so long holding back from Anthony that now that he’s stopped, it’s all coming out far too much. It shows in videos, and Ianthony’s been a thing since the beginning, but the influx suddenly increases a lot. (Shit fuck god fucking damn fuck fuck _fuck_.)

And for whatever reason, Ianthony is suddenly a thing they acknowledge and talk about. Sure, they’ve joked about it before, because it’s probably more awkward to avoid it than to talk about it when they’ve both obviously seen it. But Ian always makes sure to avoid the topic as much as possible. Suddenly, though, it’s Anthony bringing it up all the time, and it’s hard to change the topic when he’s explicitly suggesting it as a video idea.

Ian can’t figure out a good way to say no, so they end up doing it. It’s a special kind of torture, he thinks, to scroll through pictures where he obviously adores Anthony, and possibly worse to see pictures where it looks like Anthony is looking back, because it gives him false hope. Then there’s the fanfiction, which is horrible too. They generally choose the worse ones possible, so it’s no big deal reading those other than it being a burden for his eyes and brain to see the horrific spelling and grammar. But occasionally, during the search for terrible fics, they come across decent ones, and some of those hit too close to home. And then there are the raunchy ones, which—he’s got enough control of his dick to read fanfic, even the good ones, without popping a boner, but it’s still uncomfortable to read. He has to consciously avoid translating words into pictures, lest he show some embarrassing expression on the video footage.

Unfortunately, he still ends up doing it. Mel suggests that he just play into it, act as if he really likes it on camera, to the point where it seems as if he’s just joking. It’s easier than pretending to not care, so he does it. He laughs when he sees people jokingly calling him the captain of the Ianthony ship. (Goddammit.)

And that’s 2013.

—

2014 and things change again.

It starts with Melanie this time. She comes home one day with the weirdest expression Ian’s ever seen.

“What,” he says.

“You remember that best friend I told you about that time?” she asks.

“The best friend you feel in love with,” he answers.

“Yeah. I just met him earlier. We had lunch together.” She pauses again, and Ian knows better than to interrupt. He goes back to writing the script of one of next month’s videos.

“I think I still like him,” she says suddenly. “Love him, maybe.”

Ian blinks. Shuts the laptop. This is different. Mel tells him about all her crushes and attractions, because that’s their thing. But the history with this guy… It’s definitely different.

“So, uh,” he starts. “Do you want to break up?” It would hurt, of course, but he knows he can do it. He and Mel work great as a couple, but they work even better as best friends; breaking up isn’t going to be that bad, because they’ll still have each other no matter what.

“No,” she says, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know.”

She looks conflicted and stressed, and he doesn’t want to push, but, “What do you want?” he asks, the _I want what you want, I want what’s best for you_ implied.

“I don’t know,” she says again, picking at the hole in her sweater. “He asked me on a date before I told him we were dating already. I kind of want to give it a try,” she says, looking up at him uncomfortably. “But I’m also really not sure about it.”

“Well,” he begins, before trailing off. It’s silent for an awkward minute before he starts again, says, “I mean, we’ve basically been in an open relationship, haven’t we? NOT that I’ve done anything with anyone,” he quickly clarifies, when she quirks an eyebrow him. “Go for him if you want. I’m here as a back up plan if things don’t work out. What was it you said back then? Something about being fine as the replacement until I find the right person? Obviously, that goes both ways. But I mean, you probably want to explain to him about us first.”

“Of course,” she says, looking surprised. She eyes him curiously. “You really don’t mind?”

He shrugs, says, “You put up with Anthony, so…”

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to—”

“Don’t worry, babe. I don’t. I’m here as Plan B if things don’t work out, and if they do, I’ll be your number one cheerleader.”

“I love you,” Mel says, coming over to wrap him up in a hug. “I’m sorry this is such a stupid situation.”

“It’s not,” he replies, patting her head. “You should bring him over if he’s cool with it. It’s kind of my duty to vet my girlfriend’s new boyfriend,” he jokes. “And if he’s cool, then it’s kind of important that we bond as the two most important men in your life, right?”

“Conceited much?” she laughs, looking more at ease. He smiles. 

—

Mel’s new boyfriend ends up being a fucking riot. Ian can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard (it was with Anthony, before they moved out), and he marks down the experience as one of the greatest nights in his life, telling stupid jokes, playing stupid games with his girlfriend and her boyfriend, who is rapidly becoming one of his favorite people.

He approves one hundred percent of this relationship, and he’s completely ready to back off, except… Except they get a bit drunk one day and Matt kisses him with Mel watching and _oh._

And that’s how he accidentally finds himself in a bisexual polyamorous relationship.

He doesn’t miss the tender looks that pass between them sometimes, though, and he’s kind of surprised to realize that it doesn’t hurt at all. Maybe he should feel bitter that Mel’s getting her happy ending with her best friend, that they’re the real deal while he’s off on the side still pathetically pining away for Anthony.

They don’t exclude him in any way, but Ian can tell. He can tell that they’re meant for each other, fated to be or whatever the fuck, and he’s not included in their lives in quite the same way. He knows this with the same certainty that he knows that they love him with the same intensity, only platonically, and that they’ll be lifelong friends.

Besides, his relationship with Mel, it’s never quite settled into the groove of permanency. He hates to say it, but it’s always felt like a go-between, a liaison between aromatic childhood and the ‘real deal’ (except that can’t be true, because the real deal is Anthony, and if even Mel can’t replace him, then no one else possibly can).

So he’s not bitter. He stays together with Mel and Matt for several months—for as long as it feels right—because it’s good and fun and easy. 

They break up in August, because Mel and Matt have been skirting around the idea of moving back to New Jersey for months, and Ian doesn’t want to hold them back. When he brings it up and says, “It’s okay, I know I’m not what you two are to each other,” they’re both shocked, and protest that it’s not true, that Ian’s definitely wanted in the relationship, that he’s not holding them back, that they’d never do anything that would hurt him, wouldn’t move if he didn’t want them to. Ian points out how contradictory that statement is, and Matt stomps out.

He’s hurt for several days, refuses to talk to Ian at all. But Mel stays, looks at him, and quiet asks, “Are you sure?” 

When he says, “Yeah,” with a genuine smile, she returns him a watery grin and wraps him in a teary, snotty bear hug. They’ve always been on the same wavelength, after all. (Matt’s not too far behind, though, because he comes in a week later, almost squeezes him to death, and whispers fiercely into his ear, “You better not be a stranger, asshole.”)

Mel makes the break up announcement on Twitter in September, and they pack up to leave. Ian says, “Hope you don’t have to wait too long to announce that you’re dating.”

“Whatever,” says Matt. “Booty call whenever we visit, okay?” and they part laughing.

—

In retrospect, what’s really hilarious is that Anthony doesn’t find out about Ian’s crazy bisexual polyamorous relationship until after the break up.

————

 _(What the fuck,_ thinks Anthony when he sees Ian kissing a guy in the Smosh Games studio parking lot.)

 _Shit, fuck, balls, fuck,_ thinks Ian, when, after waving bye to Matt, here in LA on a business trip, he turns around to see Anthony.

He speed walks the fuck out of the parking lot and into the building, and diligently avoids Anthony’s eyes for the rest of the day. (He would try his best to avoid him period, except they have a Gamebang and Gametime to film. Thank fuck for Joven and co. for acting as an oblivious buffer.)

As they’re leaving the studio, he considers hightailing it out of there, but damn, he has to face Anthony at some point, doesn’t he? He’ll have a bunch of questions, like what the fuck, you don’t tell your fucking best friend that you’re into guys? 

“We need to talk,” he says to Anthony without looking at him, before quickening his pace and heading for Anthony’s passenger door. He keeps his eyes averted even as he climbs in and puts on the seatbelt. The silence is overwhelming.

“So—” begins Anthony.

“Are we really doing this in a fucking parking lot?” Ian says brusquely, suddenly irrationally mad.

Anthony flinches, then silently starts the ignition and starts driving.

Ian sighs internally and pinches the ridge between his eyebrows. Fuck, he’s acting unreasonable as hell. It’s not Anthony’s fault that he saw him and Matt kissing, and he has more of a right to be mad than Ian, even if Ian’s in no way obligated to keep him informed about his relationship status or sexual orientation.

Anthony drives him to his hotel room, which for some reason sets him off again. _What, me and my issues aren’t good enough for your apartment? Only Kalel is allowed?_ and god, what the fuck is wrong with him today. Anthony just stresses the hell out of him. When did he go from the best part of his day to the worst? ( _This morning,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully. _Or ten years ago, maybe. Or four. Or two._ ) (Fuck off, he tells his brain.)

He sighs again, this time aloud, before getting out of the door and resisting the immature urges to slam the door and stomp his feet. Anthony wordlessly follows him.

Ian quietly unlocks his room door. The beep the sounds when it accepts his card feels unnaturally loud after their prolonged and awkward silence. It makes him restless.

He flips open the light, grabs a drink from the fridge, and flops down onto the couch. He’s careful to take up as much space as he can, to give off the false impression of confidence and ease and I’m-perfectly-fine-and-okay-and-great-to-talk-about-this-thing-I-really-do-not-want-to-talk-about. Anthony hasn’t moved from the door.

“So,” he says, voice enthused with too much false bravado—almost flippant. “What’s up?”

Anthony hasn’t looked him in the eye since this morning, but at that, they flick up angrily. The second they meet Ian’s, he seems to deflate, and he slouches and dips his head again.

Ian swallows, suddenly feeling guilty and bad. He sighs again, leans forward to set his drink on the coffee table, and stays there, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sorry,” he says, softer. “Sit down.”

Anthony drops down into the couch opposing him and rubs his eyes tiredly. “So, uh,” he says. “You’re gay?”

“Bi,” says Ian. “It’s a thing. You’ve met Mel, I believe?” It comes out sarcastic and caustic. Shit, apparently he goes on the offense when he feels defensive. He sighs, leans back again.

“Sorry,” says Anthony. “I didn’t mean— So, uh. Was that your boyfriend?”

How the fuck is he going to explain Matt. Does he even want to? Anthony’s not fucking entitled to know anything about his personal affairs, especially when he failed to notice anything unusual the entire half a year they were dating. (But that’s the defensive son of a bitch Ian becomes when he’s defensive and stressed, apparently.)

“Kind of,” he settles for.

“Uh,” says Anthony.

It’ll be easier to tell him, he thinks. Their friendship’s not going to survive if he keeps so many secrets, he thinks. (He studiously does not think about the biggest secret he’s keeping.)

“Ex-boyfriend,” he says. “His name is Matt. Us and Mel, we were together for about six months. We broke up because they were going to move to New Jersey, but we’re still friends with benefits, I guess.” It’s a simplified version, but whatever.

“Oh,” says Anthony eloquently. It’s understandable. It’s kind of a lot to absorb. He looks like he has a lot of questions, but all he says is, “So, uh. Were you ever going to tell me? Not that you would have had to,” he rushes to add, looking up, a bit panicked, (Ian doesn’t blame him; defensive Ian is a mean, biting fucker.) “but, you know. I’m your best friend.” He trails off at the end, slouches back into the couch.

“Sorry,” he says, then winces at how insincere it sounds. “Sorry,” he repeats, softer and more genuine. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You never told me you were bi,” says Anthony. “I made a lot of stupid jokes.”

“I would have told you if they bothered me,” says Ian. (This is a blatant lie.) “Besides, the only people who knows outside of my family are Mel, Matt, and Mari.”

“You told Mari before you told me?” asks Anthony after a beat, voice quiet and almost without inflection (he can hear the masked hurt).

 _Your name doesn’t start with an M. Tough luck, pal,_ Ian thinks; it’s an inane thought to have. Instead, he says, “She walked in looking for Mel at a bad time.” Explaining to her hadn’t been nearly as painful as this.

“Okay,” Anthony says. He leans forward and rubs his hands against the sides of his legs; it’s clear that he wants to leave. “Is, uh, is that it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, cool,” answers Anthony, standing up. “I’m just, uh. I’m going to go then,” he says, awkwardly jerking his hand towards the door.

“Anthony,” Ian sighs. Anthony stops in his tracks. “I don’t want this to be weird. I told you this because I didn’t want it to be weird and I didn’t want to keep anymore secrets from you. Look, can we just pretend this never happened? It’s not like I plan to come out to anyone else anytime soon, so you should just keep acting the way you have.” 

“Yeah, okay,” says Anthony. “Bye buddy, talk to you later,” he says awkwardly before fleeing (because that’s literally what he does).

 _That’s not acting normal, you asshole,_ Ian wants to yell. He’s drained though, and it’s not worth the effort, and he just doesn’t fucking care enough. He takes a shower and heads to bed early.

—

He goes to the studio the next day expecting it to be another shitty day. He’s glad he went in with low expectations, because he’s not disappointed.

Anthony stiffens whenever he gets near, and they don’t exchange a word other than an arbitrary “Suck it!” when Ian kills Anthony (and even that was under the impression that he was yelling at someone else). Everyone notices. Both Sohinki and Mari give him significant _looks_ , which damn, because Mari hasn’t grown out of the habit of dropping by now and then even though Mel’s moved out.

 _not bad,_ he texts Anthony later, mostly vicious. _could have done without the impression of a shitty record player_

 _haha fuck you_ , he gets back.

Thank fuck they got the rest of their LA Smosh stuff done before this shit went down, because Ian has never been so glad to fly back to Sacramento.

(He doesn’t manage to escape Mari’s interrogation though.

“Has he been a dick about it?” she asks after he explains the situation (why lie to one of the few people he can actually talk to this about, he reasons).

“Well, he hasn’t been a not-dick about it,” he answers.)

—

Things are slightly better when Anthony flies in to shoot two weeks later, but not by much (and not for long).

Filming for the first video goes well enough, even if BTS is short because they don’t have much to say to each other. The crew eyes them a bit awkwardly, and Ryan looks like he wants to say something (but doesn’t, thank god), but at least they get the video done. They get a few IanH videos done too—mostly Lunchtimes, because they have tried-and-tested formulas and a decent chunk of half-acting already.

Things go to shit when they start shooting the second video.

He flirts, almost unintentionally, with one of the camera-mans, and Anthony almost pitches a hissy fit.

It’s shocking, he thinks, eyeing Anthony with a mostly-genuine disgusted face (the camera’s rolling; the crew thinks they’re joking for bts), to consider that Anthony might actually be homophobic.

He’s stuck between wanting to do it again, just to piss Anthony off because he’s being an asshole, and stopping, because it is kind of unprofessional to flirt with what are essentially his employees.

Anthony makes his decision for him by shoving him way too hard during a stunt, to the point where he almost falls headfirst into a pole.

He keeps his eyes glued to Anthony’s when he very deliberately approaches Alex and pitches his voice low so that he has to lean in to hear.

He’s not completely surprised when Anthony yanks him away, throwing a biting “Sorry, gotta talk about this next scene” over his shoulder at a confused Alex, but he’s definitely angry. He tries to jerk his arm out of his hand, but Anthony’s hand is a vice around his wrist, probably burning bruises into the soft flesh there.

“What the fuck?” he says as Anthony shoves him into a room and shuts the door.

“What are you thinking?” Anthony hisses, “I thought you weren’t planning to come out to anyone soon, so what the hell do you think you’re doing, flirting with the fucking camera m—”

“Fuck you,” he bites back. “I can flirt with whoever I want and I can fuck whoever I want. Just because you’re a fucking homophobic f—“

Anthony snarls and shoves him into the wall, pins him to it with arms on his biceps and a mouth biting and licking into his own. He blindly returns it, too caught up in his rage to not (too caught up in his rage to savor it, even). He fights back with his tongue, presses forward with his body. He makes a startled, hurt noise in the back of his throat when Anthony grinds down on his hips, hard through his jeans, and his brain catches up. He bites down hard and shoves him off.

“Fuck you,” he says, over the sound of _what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck_ and _he kissed me, he kissed me, he kissed me_ in the back of his brain.

“You kissed me bac—” starts Anthony, eyes blazing.

“You have a fucking fiancé, you asshole.”

Anthony deflates at that. _Yeah I fucking thought so,_ Ian thinks over the sound of the stupid, irrelevant part of him that withers up and dies because he’s never going to match up to Kalel. “Pull yourself together and wipe your fucking mouth,” he says coldly and leaves the room.

 _Son of a bitch,_ he thinks deliberately, _son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch._ He drags his sleeve over his lips (it leaves a little stain of red), readjusts himself in his pants to hide his boner, and tamps down on the chaos and excitement whirling around in his mind. 

—

(Shooting goes off without a hitch. Apparently Ian’s a fucking top notch actor when he’s furious and miserable and horny, because they even finish a day early.)

He spends the entire night Skyping with Mel and Matt. He falls asleep at 8 am, after sleepily apologizing to Matt for keeping him up all night even though he has work the next morning. (Mel watches him for another hour as she writes, looking worried, before she ends the call.)

When he wakes up at four in the afternoon, there’s a text from Anthony waiting for him.

 _I’m sorry,_ it says.

 _we’re not talking about this,_ he sends back, and goes back to sleep.

He wakes to the sound of pounding on his door. He considers ignoring it, but it’s so loud it’s definitely going to wake his neighbors, at—he blearily eyes the clock as he hastily pulls on some pants—3 in the fucking morning, and he knows they have to get up for work at 5 am. 

 _Fuck off,_ he thinks as he hits the door once, hard, to tell Anthony to quit fucking pounding, he’s opening it, okay? When he get’s the door unlocked, Anthony shoves his way in like a rude asshole.

“Are you drunk?” Ian hisses, shutting the door. He smells like alcohol.

“No,” says Anthony from where he’s collapsed on the couch. “I only had one beer.” The words don’t slur and he sounds sober even if he isn’t acting like it

“Why are you here?” asks Ian. “Did you lose the keys for the Smosh house?”

“No,” he answers. “I just wanted to see you.” 

Ian’s heart jumps to his throat. “Are you sure you’re not drunk,” he asks, because these are words he only hears in unrealistic daydreams, and there is nothing closer to reality than the headache pounding between his eyes right now and goosebumps raising along his arms because it’s damn cold.

“We need to talk,” elaborates Anthony.

“I think I said we didn’t,” replies Ian snidely.

“I jerked off thinking about you,” says Anthony.

His stomach lurches at the same time a tendril of lust curls in his abdomen. _This is a fucking joke_ , thinks Ian bitterly. He says, “I’m not going to be your gay experiment. I’m especially not going to help you cheat on Kalel—you know, my friend, your best friend,” (and it’s true, even if it costs him to say; they haven’t been best friends since they move, even after they reconciled) “mother of your cats, lovely girl, and, uh, your fucking _fiancé?_ ”

“I know,” says Anthony, bringing his hands up and digging his palms deep into his eye sockets. “I know, and I love her, I really do, but I can’t. I just. I keep thinking about you, I don’t know. I don’t know. Do you think, if I get it out of my system, Ian?” he asks incoherently, looking desperate.

“Go fuck yourself,” says Ian coldly. What is his life? The guy he’s been in love with for half his life wants to fuck him to get the gay out of his system. “Get out of my house.”

He’s too tired to enforce it though, so when Anthony doesn’t look like he’s going to move, he adds, “Or stay, I don’t care. I’m locking my door. You know where the extra blankets are.”

He curls up under his covers and tries not to think about how stupid his miserable life is so that he can actually get asleep. (He very pointedly does not think about the fact that Anthony wants to fuck him, even if that’s all his dick can focus on.)

—

He’s still there when Ian wakes up in the morning and stumbles into the kitchen. He’s frowning disapprovingly into his fridge.

“There’s none of your vegan shit here,” Ian grumbles as he shuffles past and grabs a donut from the counter. 

When Anthony throws him a disgruntled glare, he pointedly shoves the donut messily into his mouth. Anthony rolls his eyes before they drift down and his cheeks color, and fuck, Ian’s only wearing boxers—one of Matt’s old pairs, so they’re worn and kind of tight—and actually, Anthony’s seen him in less without batting an eyelash, so what the fuck.

“Eyes up here, asshole,” snaps Ian, darting behind the counter so he can hide his clothed junk from peeping eyes.

Anthony’s face flushes red and he turns back to the fridge. “Is there really nothing that I can eat?”

“Should have thought about that before you stayed,” snarks Ian. After a beat, taking pity on him, he adds, “There’s some frozen stuff in the back and fruit in the pantry.” Anthony doesn’t function well without breakfast.

“Look,” says Anthony after he’s had a sip of his healthy vegan protein fruit shake or whatever. “We need to talk about this. I’m sorry about yesterday and I’m sorry about the day before. It was stupid and out of line and I admit I was a little drunk.”

“Pour me a glass of that fruity shit,” says Ian, in lieu of “apology accepted” (they both hear it though). “This donut is dry.”

“I’m sorry,” Anthony says softly as he hands over the drink. “I fucked up and I promise won’t do it again. Let’s go back to normal?”

And what can Ian say to that? He tells the part of heart wailing over the fact that it was a just a fuck up to shut up and says, “None of that shitty acting you did last time?”

“I promise,” says Anthony sincerely.

“So what’d you think of the last Walking Dead episode?” he says, and things go back to normal.

—

Other than a few minor blips, Anthony keeps true to his promise. Occasionally Ian catches his eyes lingering his mouth or face (and probably his ass sometimes, but it’s not like he can see that with his back turned). It’s a special kind of torture, but like always, he learns to deal.

Anthony and Kalel break up in November.

“I’m sorry,” Ian says when Anthony tells him, looking downcast, and he means it. Kalel is great, even if she’s not, yknow, Ian. He’s kind of sad that he has to get used to another girlfriend—who may or may not be as cool as Kalel—even if a part of him’s happy that Anthony won’t be getting married quite so soon. “Still not going to be your gay experiment,” he jokes, and Anthony makes a strange face and gives him a weird smile.

“Of course not,” he says.

“Wait,” says Ian as something suddenly occurs to him. “It wasn’t because of me, right? It wasn’t about that kiss? Because I can explain if it’ll help…?”

“No. I never actually told her about that,” he says, with a strange twitch of his lips, and Ian’s suddenly reminded that not every relationship is quite like the one he had with Mel and Matt. “But yeah, she brought it up. We love each other, but it wasn’t working out. We were good together, but we weren’t great, and it just didn’t feel like we were living up to our potential, you know?”

 _Yes,_ Ian wants to say, _yes I know exactly that feeling_ , but saying that would edge to close to truth, and that is unacceptable. Instead, he says, “Tough luck, buddy. Donut?” because he knows it’ll make him laugh and shove him. They play Nintendo games until deep into the night, and they fall sleep curled on opposite ends of the couch.

It’s nice. In fact, it’s the greatest they’ve been in years.

—

“You should move to LA,” says Anthony one day during lunch.

“What,” says Ian around a mouthful of Subway. “And go back to living together like the ‘good old days?’ ” He swings one arm in front of his chest and pitches his voice so that he sounds like an old country man.

“Why not?”

Ian pins him with a raised eyebrow. “If you haven’t forgotten,” he says, “I own a German Shepard, you own a cat, and I’m allergic.” _Plus, I’m in love with you and you want to fuck me._ Although if Anthony’s suggesting it, maybe he’s gotten over that urge. Ian’s not sure if he’s glad or disappointed. 

“Well,” amends Anthony, “It doesn’t have to be together. But I miss living in the same city as you,” he says. “It sucks that I have to fly an hour just to see my best friend.”

“Well…”

“Come on, what’s keeping you there?” asks Anthony. “Most of the Smosh and Youtube stuff is in LA. You’re single, so it only matters if you want to move, and we’ll have to fly up every now and then to film, so you’ll see your family and friends regularly.”

“How does it make more sense that we just fly there for work every month than if one of us actually lives up there? Are you sure we’re saving on airfare at all?”

“Ian,” Anthony wheedles.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll think about it.”

—

At home, he pets Daisy and asks, “You wanna go to LA?” She looks back with huge eyes and doesn’t say a word.

When he asks Mel, she vigorously says yes (she’s under the delusion that the fact that both Ian and Anthony are single _means something)._ (“It’s not only that,” she insists. “I think a change in environment will be good for you.”)

When he asks Matt, he says, “Only if you want to.” Then he smirks and exaggeratedly winks and says, “But I’ll be down in LA in a few months…” So Ian knows where he stands.

His mom, his sister, his Sacramento friends, and his Youtube friends are all varying degrees of approving, so he looks for a place in LA that will accommodate a big dog and puts his Sacramento home up for sale.

He moves down to LA in December.

—

Not unexpectedly, living in closer proximity to Anthony intensifies the affection he feels for him. The quality of their videos increases, but his mental health suffers.

It’s all he can do to keep his face from looking stupidly fond all the time, but even then, their videos are littered with shots of him staring at Anthony, eyes soft. He avoids twitter mentions and tumblr like a plague, because he doesn’t want to know what the fans are saying. Thank god Anthony doesn’t try to bring Ianthony up as a video idea.

Sometimes, he catches Anthony looking at him (not looking back, because that has _connotations)_ , and it scares him because it gives him false hope and the delusion that maybe… But he squashes that thought before it even forms because it’s stupid and not possible and it’s simply never going to happen.

When Matt drops by in April, he’s really fucking glad to see him. He loves Matt on a normal basis, but the day-to-day contact with Anthony puts his hormones in overdrive, and he doesn’t do one night stands, and—basically, he’s dying for a good fuck, and Matt is a really good fuck.

Because he’s an idiot, he forgets to lock the door, and because they’re really horny, they fumble their way to the couch and don’t move, and because the universe fucking hates him, Anthony chooses that day to drop by for a visit—a Best Friend Bonding Day or some shit like that.

He catches them frotting on the couch, Matt straddling his lap and furiously grinding down. When he hears a shocked inhale and there’s a sudden flood of light, Ian’s eyelids shoot open, and rather than stopping, his hips arch straight off the couch and he comes like that, eyes locked on Anthony’s.

Anthony flees with a flurry of apologies and a hastily slammed door. Matt falls back onto the couch. “Shit, Ian, was that…?”

“Yeah,” he croaks. God, why does this keep happening.

“Well,” replies Matt. “Only true love makes you come that fast.” He laughs when Ian kicks him. “So what are you going to do?”

“Sleep,” says Ian, pushing himself unsteadily off the couch. Orgasms always make him sleepy and relaxed, but it’s kind of hard to enjoy the post-coital bliss on a lumpy sofa after _that._

“With him?” jokes Matt. When Ian says nothing but keeps heading towards the bedroom, he goes, “What, seriously? You’re not going to go after him?”

“Sleep first." answers Ian. "It’s practically tradition by now,” he adds with a snide twist of his lips.

—

When he wakes up, there’s no text from Anthony. There’s also no Matt in his bed, which prompts him to head to living room even though he kind of wants to roll over and fall asleep again. “What gives?” he says to the lump on the lumpy couch as he texts a neutral _hey_ to Anthony. When it grunts quixotically, he elaborates, “Why are you sleeping there?”

Matt’s sleep-ruffled head pokes out and it sounds like his throat’s been through a grinder when he says, “I didn’t think it was appropriate to—thanks.” He takes a sip out of the mug Ian hands him and sounds clearer when he resumes with, “Didn’t think it was appropriate after that display yesterday. How are you going to explain that to Anthony after you kiss and have make-up sex?”

Ian shoots him and unimpressed look. 

“You’re really that convinced?” asks Matt.

“Shut up, you don’t even know him.”

“But Mel does,” replies Matt. “She thinks you’re made for each other, and I trust Mel.”

“Look,” sighs Ian. “I do too.” 

“But not on this.”

“But not on this,” he affirms. “She’s too optimistic. Not every pair of best friends where one is hopelessly in love with the other is going to end up like you two, you perfect assholes.”

“I guess,” says Matt, sounding skeptical. He drops it though, so Ian counts it as a victory. “So what are you going to do?”

“Well, I sent him a text earlier.” He shrugs. “I guess I’ll wait for a reply.”

“Okay,” says Matt dubiously. “Well if that’s settled, I’ll be in your bedroom sleeping. Your couch is a torture device.”

“No one said you had to sleep on it,” calls Ian. He’s secretly glad he did though, because he knows that Matt would raise ruckus until he did more if he were more than 40% awake.

—

Anthony still hasn’t replied by the time Matt wanders into the kitchen near sundown and demands breakfast near dinner.

“Did you sort things out yet?” he asks, digging into his food. He narrows his eyes at Ian when he doesn’t reply. “Ian.”

“He hasn’t replied yet,” he says, shrugging. 

“There’s this thing called a phone,” says Matt. “And I know it has a lot of other features these days, but it was originally designed to make calls.”

“Okay, fine.” Ian grimaces as he hits the call button. Phone calls are the worst: all the awkwardness of real life and no way to read between the lines (it’s like someone combined the worst parts of texting and real interaction). It rings six times and goes to voicemail. Ian blinks. “Uh, hey,” he says, caught off guard. “It’s Ian. Call me back when you can.” He hits the end call button.

“He’s ignoring you,” says Captain Obvious. “Text is one thing, but phone, man.”

“Shut up,” says Ian tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “Look, we were going to film some IanH videos tomorrow. He won’t bail on that. We’ll talk then.”

Matt sighs but doesn’t press.

—

 _can’t film today, something came up_ is sitting on his phone the next morning.

He groans and heads to the kitchen. 

“You are going to find him today,” says Matt when he find out. It’s an order, not a question. Ian knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t follow it. (Matt is a master at being an annoying piece of shit.)

 _you okay?_ he considers texting back. The likelihood of a reply is basically zilch though, so he doesn’t. He also flirts with the idea of sending a heads up that he’s coming over, but decides that it’ll make tracking him down all the harder. (Briefly, he considers doing so for exactly that reason, but he’s pretty sure Matt would see right through his farce.)

He drops Matt off at his building on the way over. “Go get him, tiger,” he says, looking entirely serious. He looks ridiculous saying that in a suit and tie, so Ian cracks a smile. “Loosen up, okay?” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks away. He knows Matt well enough to hear the, _Before you fuck_ , he wants to add but can’t because he’s about to make a presentation to the man walking three feet to his left.

Matt turned the radio to an angry rock station before he left, and Ian doesn’t bother fixing it because he kind of needs the pumping up. By the time he gets to Anthony’s, he’s feeling a lot braver (and a hell of a lot angrier) than he’d expected to be. 

He rides the elevator to the right floor, find the right door, hits the doorbell once, and impatiently thumbs at his phone. When there’s no answer, he furiously punches at it twenty times in a row. ( _Ring, ring, ring-ring-ring-ring-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri-ri!)_ He shifts to pounding on the door, but all he gets for his efforts is a sore hand.

Fuck it. He’s going to look like a fool, and he might get thrown out, but at least he’s not doing it in the middle of the night.

“Anthony!” he yells. “ANTHONY OPEN THE DOOR! ANTHONY! ANTHONY I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE (he doesn’t, actually) ANTHONY OPEN THE DOOR! ANTHONY!” It echoes in the hallway. Neighbors are going to start peeking their heads out any second. Even if Anthony really isn’t home, at least he’ll hear about this for sure when he returns.

Turns out he is home, though, because the door suddenly swings open halfway though his loudest “ANTHONY!” yet, and he lurches inside and crashes into a solid chest.

“Stop it,” hisses Anthony. “Sorry, guys!” he calls into the hallway. “Sorry, Mrs. Taylor!” He half bows, half waves, looking apologetic, before shutting the door quietly.

“So you _were_ in here,” says Ian. (He’s left any shame he might feel in the car.)

“Was that really necessary?” sighs Anthony. He won’t look Ian in the eye.

“Is it really going to be this weird every time this happens?”

“Is this really going to happen again?”

“I don’t do it on purpose,” shrugs Ian, sitting down.

“Was that,” says Anthony, sounding like it costs him to ask. “Was that your boyfriend?”

“It was Matt.” You know, that one they had a fight about last time? He kind of expects Anthony to remember.

“Your boyfriend?”

Of course he doesn’t remember. Just to be a shit, Ian asks, “Why does that matter?”

“Just,” says Anthony, looking frustrated. “Is he? Your boyfriend?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Of course it fucking matters—“ His eyes dart up to meet Ian’s for a split second before he cuts himself off again.

“Anthony,” sighs Ian, “if you’re going to get this upset every time I’m with a guy, it’s going to be a problem.” 

“Then I guess we have a fucking problem,” snaps Anthony. He’s back to avoiding Ian’s eyes.

Ian rubs at the ridge between his eyebrows. “I don’t get it, Anthony. We established last time that you weren’t a homophobe.” _When you kissed me,_ he thinks. “Is this a territorial thing? I thought you got over wanting to fuck m—”

“I’m in love with you, asshole,” says Anthony. “I’m in love with you, okay?”

Ian’s heart stops. _What,_ he thinks. _Impossible._

“Where’s the camera,” he says.

“ _What?_ ” asks Anthony, sounding half confused, half offended.

“This is a prank,” says Ian. He doesn’t know what possesses him to think that it might be, but it makes more sense than the alternative. “Where is the camera.”

“Fuck you,” spits Anthony. “How degrading is it that I might be love in you that you’re acting like this is a fucking prank?”

“This is a joke,” says Ian. Nothing makes sense. “You’re not in love with me.”

“You’re right,” says Anthony angrily. “I hate you, you fucking asshole.” It comes out hurt and bitter.

Ian knows that tone (is intimately familiar with it).

“You’re in love with me?” he asks, furiously trying to shove down the hope that sprouting in his chest. (He’s going to die—he’s going to literally die—if this is a joke. His heart can’t take the fluctuations anymore.)

Anthony’s jaw clenches, and he hunches down further into his barstool. He looks like he would crawl into a crack in the ground if he could.

Ian’s heart is high in his throat when he walks forward to stand in front of Anthony and put his hands on his knees. Anthony makes a hurt noise.

They just stand there for a second, hovering in limbo. It takes a lot of courage to say something he’s been hiding for more than ten years, something that he thought he’d never, _ever_ say aloud. “I’ve been in love with you,” he says quietly, gripping Anthony’s knees so hard that his arms are shaking. “Since high school.”

“What,” breathes Anthony. His hands come tentatively up to hover around Ian’s.

“I realized when we were eighteen,” he says, voice barely audible. Anthony’s hands wrap around his. “And I was fucking terrified.”

The last word is muffled in the soft kiss Anthony brushes against his lips. It’s diametrically different from their first kiss, tender and sweet instead of violent and passionate.

“I love you,” murmurs Anthony into his hair, wrapping his arms around him.

“Sorry,” he says into Anthony’s collarbone. “I spent so long denying it that it’s kind of hard for me to accept.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Well,” says Ian, burying his smile deeper into Anthony’s neck. “I didn’t really make it easy for you either.”

—

(Anthony complains about beard burn without the benefit of actual sex later. Well, they’ll have to rectify that, won’t they?)

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone actually reads this, sorry for the fluctuations in writing style. Started this four months ago, toyed with shifting povs, and basically there’s a lot of tonal shifts, but whatever.
> 
> Also sorry for the fact that, while I tried to keep it mostly canon compliant, there are a few parts that aren’t. I know that I and A didn’t get really close until their late teens, I think Smosh started after high school, not during, and while there’s speculation that I’s moved to LA (after that donut insta), it’s not confirmed. Pretty sure there’re a lot of errors with behavior in videos and supposed emotions, because I didn’t really bother to check those. And I left out a lot of things like I would have liked to include but forgot to/ended up not, including but not limited to: more Smosh Games crew, more of the 3 cats and Daisy, Smosh movie stuff, etc.
> 
> Anyways, this is actually the first complete fic I’ve written before (because generally I do not actually write them down) so I probably will not mess around with it anymore. It was interesting seeing what sort of crutches I leaned on in writing though.
> 
> Might do a part from A’s pov though—we’ll see. Debating whether or not I want to make it porny (not sure I’m quite ready to write that). If it ends up being porny, then that ending’s going to be a bit different. (It was originally going to be smut, but I chickened out and ended up making it clean.)


End file.
